Page 63 of Unforgettable

“Unfortunately, yes,” I breathe out, feeling a little self-conscious. “My intention was to live a life where I avoided ever having to tell anyone that tidbit of information about myself.”

He runs a hand over his head. “Why didn’t I think that was a possibility?”

“Don’t worry, most people don’t. I just feel shitty for ruining your plans.”

“No way.” He shakes his head. “You didn’t ruin a single thing.”

I look around, hoping something else we can do catches my attention. “We can find somewhere to have breakfast,” I suggest.

He snaps his fingers and then points at me. “I’m just going to teach you.”

“Teach me to eat breakfast?” I ask cautiously, hoping he’s not suggesting what I think he is.

“To ride a bike,” he clarifies proudly.

I chuckle awkwardly. “I think you’re insane.”

“Meh.” He shrugs. “I’ve been called worse.”

“Oz,” I say sternly.

“Come on.” He grabs my hand and leads me to a shed where rows and rows of bikes are parked, clearly waiting for people to rent them and then ride them.

“Is this really necessary? I’ve lived a great life without riding one,” I tell him. “And everyone’s going to be staring.”

He straightens his stance, ensuring his full height and size are on display for nothing else but complete intimidation. “It’s early. No one’s going to stare at you.”

I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face at his fierce protectiveness, even though I’m not completely convinced that Oz can hold off the curious gazes. A guy in his mid-twenties trying to learn to ride a bike in public isn’t something you see every day.

“Fine.” I sigh in resignation. “I’ll give it a go.”

Side by side, we walk over to a bike share rack. Oz uses an app on his phone to unlock a bike and a helmet. “We’ll get another one later, for me.”

“That’s a bit ambitious of you,” I say. “I don’t think we’ll be riding bikes together today.”

“Are you underestimating me, Reevey?”

I put a finger up to silence him. “That is not my name, no matter what my sister told you to call me.”

“I guess payback is a bitch.”

“Oswald,” I warn

Ignoring me, he grabs my hand and leads me to the two-wheeled contraption. “Let’s get you on this bike and then we can argue about who calls who what, yeah? Jump on,” he instructs.

“This is stupid,” I grumble.

Using one hand to grip the handle bar, he uses the other one to cup my cheek. “Give me half an hour,” he says softly. “If you absolutely hate it, we’ll stop.”

Because saying no to Oz isn’t ever an option, I hook my leg over the middle of the bike and situate myself on the seat. My feet comfortably touch the ground as I wrap a hand around each handle.

“You’ve got way better balance than you would’ve had you learned when you were a kid, so don’t be surprised if it isn’t as hard as you think,” he says while raising the helmet to my head.

“Do you really think this is necessary?” I ask as he carefully places it on my head.

His face creases in concentration as he adjusts the strap underneath my chin.

“There will be no injuries on my watch,” he says, his eyes meeting mine. “Even though I’m almost certain you’ll instinctively put your feet down to break a potential fall, or use the brakes, I still need you in one piece.”

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